


drowned in living waters

by juliet_oscar



Series: blessed be the mystery of love [4]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, summer in italy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-20 21:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliet_oscar/pseuds/juliet_oscar
Summary: Set the summer of 1985. Elio spends the first six weeks of summer in Italy and Oliver remains in New York. When Oliver arrives in Italy they make up for lost time.'Those six weeks had been interminable. He tried to keep himself busy; transcribing music, riding into B., swimming at the river; but the days dragged as he thought of Oliver. He missed his smell, the feel of his hands on his skin, his laugh, the joy in his voice when he talks about his work, and that particular look he reserves just for Elio; full of adoration and security.'Can be read on its own or as part of the series.





	1. Chapter 1

Elio lounges in a chair by the pool holding a book in one hand and staring at the pages without reading them. Oliver is arriving today, and he is trying futilely to distract himself. 

Elio has been in B. for a little more than a month since classes ended in mid-May. Oliver had had to stay in the city part of the summer to teach a summer intensive. Elio had wanted to stay with him, but Oliver refused, saying he should spend some time with his parents. 

So Elio had grudgingly returned to Italy alone with the promise that Oliver would join him in six weeks.

Those six weeks had been interminable. He tried to keep himself busy; transcribing music, riding into B., swimming at the river; but the days dragged as he thought of Oliver. He missed his smell, the feel of his hands on his skin, his laugh, the joy in his voice when he talks about his work, and that particular look he reserves just for Elio; full of adoration and security. 

This is the most time they had spent apart since that year that Elio hates to remember. He feels haunted by that pain, even when he knows Oliver is returning.

*

His one solace has been Marzia. They spent most of the days together. At first, it had been uncomfortable. They had grown past the initial awkwardness after the first summer, but with Oliver back in the picture Elio felt the divide between them open again. He couldn’t explain it; he knew she knew, after their conversation the day Oliver left there was little doubt she understood what happened, but he felt bad telling her about him.

Finally about a week after he had returned when searching for something to say he had said, ‘Oliver’s returning this summer.’

‘I know,’ she responded, ‘You’re mother told me.’

‘Chiara will be pleased,’ he hadn’t known what else to say, he didn’t understand why he had even mentioned Oliver. 

‘Elio, don’t.’

He had frozen, not knowing exactly how he had gotten himself into this mess. 

She then turned to him and placed a hand on his leg. Looking him in the eye, she said, ‘You don’t need to lie to me.’

He just sat there staring at her. He didn’t know why he felt like he was about to cry. 

She placed a hand on his cheek and said, ‘Tell me about him.’

It was like opening the floodgates. Elio told her everything starting when he arrived in New York last fall. He told her about the city and the apartment and their lives together. While he had talked, a few tears had escaped his eyes. 

She maintained her steady eye contact, when he was done she said, ‘You love him.’

Elio nodded wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand, angry with himself for getting so emotional. 

‘Good.’

Since then they have fallen back into an easy rhythm. 

*

Elio hears the car pull up the drive. The door opens, and the gravel crunches as Oliver steps out. Every one of his senses is completely attuned to what is happening out front, but he doesn’t rise from his chair. Feigning nonchalance, he returns to staring at his book until his father calls, ‘Elio, Oliver’s here.’ 

He walks casually through the house while his heart jumps in his chest. When he reaches the front door, he regrets his attempt at casualness. 

Oliver is standing on the drive next to his father. When he turns to Elio a grin overwhelms his face, and he drops the bags he was carrying to the ground. 

Elio rushes to him. Oliver catches him in his arms, lifting him off his feet slightly. He crushes their lips together, appreciating Oliver’s strong arms around his waist and his smell that envelops Elio. He breaks the kiss but keeps their faces together. 

‘missed you,’ he mumbles against Oliver’s lips.

Oliver chuckles, ‘You have no idea how much I have been looking forward to this.' 

Elio wants just to keep kissing him and never stop, but he remembers his father and Anchise. He slowly steps back, blushing a bit at the thought of his father having seen everything. He bends to pick up one of Oliver’s bags. 

‘May I bring your things up to your room?’ he smirks and heads toward the house. 

…..

Oliver is dead on his feet. He had not taken a nap is his habit upon arriving in Italy. As exhausted as he was Elio was there in front of him, warm and solid and real. He couldn’t close his eyes and miss even a moment with him, so he had spent the day following Elio around the house in a stupor. 

They had helped Annella with the orchard. He had enjoyed watching the blush creep Elio’s neck when he winked at him while picking peaches. Elio was never farther than an arm’s length away, casually brushing his palms across Oliver's shoulders or twisting their fingers together. 

Particularly enjoyable was when on their way to dinner Elio had walked him against the wall of the villa kissing him languidly while twining his fingers through his hair. 

They join Annella and the Professor, who insists he calls him Samuel, but Oliver can’t quite get used to it. He’s exhausted but tries to participate in the conversation. They trade stories and laugh; it’s comfortable and familiar. 

Towards the end of the meal, Annella and Samuel announce that they are fortuitously leaving town for a few days starting tomorrow. The professor gives a half-hearted explanation about needing to meet a colleague at one of the local universities. Oliver might have been embarrassed by the whole situation if he hadn’t been so grateful. Not for the first time he thinks how lucky Elio is to have his parents. 

They retire to the lounge. Elio plays for them. He watches utterly besotted, overwhelmed with his admiration of his boyfriend. When he is done, he squeezes himself next to Oliver on the loveseat, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Oliver lets the rhythm of the conversation flow around him, unable to force his tired brain to follow along.

He wakes to the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder gently. He buries his face farther into what he is realizing is Elio’s shoulder. He sits up with a start. He had fallen asleep in the middle of the conversation. Worse than that he had instinctually curled into Elio’s side all in front of his parents. 

Elio smiles at him, ‘Ready for bed?’ He nods, flushing a bit in embarrassment. They quickly bid Annella and Samuel goodnight and make their way upstairs. 

As soon as they are in their room, Oliver sinks into the bed. Elio stands in front of him and takes his face in his hands, ‘Have I told you recently how adorable you are?’ He presses a kiss to his forehead before moving away to begin undressing for bed. 

He starts to untie his shoes but somehow manages to get them hopelessly knotted. Elio, now in nothing more than his boxers, takes pity on him and kneels to help untie the laces. He basks in the beautiful domesticity of it all. 

He manages to remove the rest of his clothes himself and crawls under the sunny yellow duvet. Elio turns on his side and looks at him through half-lidded eyes. The last thing Oliver remembers thinking before drifting to sleep is how desperately he wants to kiss him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver make the most of their first day alone at the house.

Elio wakes to the gentle drag of Oliver’s lips over his collarbone. He’s not ready to be awake just yet so he keeps his eyes closed while he says, ’Good morning.’ 

’Morning,’ Oliver murmurs against his skin before carefully biting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

He reluctantly opens his eyes, ’I’m surprised you’re up so early, after last night.’ 

Oliver pauses, looking up at him, ’Sorry about that,’ he says.

Elio runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, ’Don’t apologize, you had a long day.’

’Still, it was not exactly what I had planned for our reunion.’

’You had plans?’ he laughs. 

Oliver hums an affirmative noise that Elio can feel vibrate through his chest, ’I thought about you every day. I made a list of every little thing about you I missed and what I would do when I saw you.’

’Would you care to share that list?’ 

’I could,’ he says, ’Let’s start with one of the things I missed most.’

He crushes their lips together. There is no pretense; the kiss begins open-mouthed and frantic. His tongue is in Elio’s mouth then he moves to suck and bite his lower lip. He continues insistently until Elio released a gasping moan. 

’That,’ Oliver says, ’I missed that noise so much.’

He continues down Elio’s chest kissing his collarbone and biting his nipple, all the while enumerating the ways he missed him. 

Eventually, Oliver shifts, positioning himself above Elio and delicately spreading his legs until he kneels comfortably between them. He kisses his right knee lightly. 

Elio’s heart leaps in his chest; he didn’t anticipate this developing so quickly. Oliver usually loves to tease him. 

Oliver leans in close and presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh. He begins to suck and gently bite the sensitive skin there. 

Elio lets out a gasp. Oliver lifts his head then rests his cheek where his lips just were. 

’Your legs,’ he says gazing up at him. 

’What?’ Elio stutters, he can feel Oliver’s hot breath through his boxers at every word, and it is beyond distracting.

’The next thing on my list,’ Oliver smiles knowingly, ’I missed your legs.’ 

’Oh,’ he breathes. 

Oliver moves, pausing briefly to let his breath ghost across Elio’s erection before moving his lips to his other thigh. 

The tension building inside him, he lets out a frustrated groan.

’What?’ the other man asks, ’I thought you wanted to hear my list?’ He raises his eyebrows inviting Elio to interject. 

He remains silent. Oliver smiles, ’Then, of course, there are your fingers.’

He presses their spread hands together then intertwines them bringing Elio’s hand to his mouth. He kisses his knuckles before sucking one of his fingers into his mouth. 

And it’s too much for Elio. He moans, louder than is perhaps advisable given his parents are presumably somewhere in the house, ’Please.’

Oliver looks at him innocently, well as innocently as anyone can look with their cheeks hollowed like that. 

He does not want to beg, but he feels as if he is about to burst and he refuses to spend his first time with Oliver after six weeks, coming in his pants, ’Oliver, please.’

Oliver releases his finger. ’Is there something I can do for you?’ he asks tauntingly. 

Elio lifts his hips involuntarily. 

’Oh,’ feigning realization, ’Did you want help with that?’ he asks gesturing casually at the hardness between Elio’s legs. 

’I suppose, we were going to get there eventually. That certainly did make the list,’ he grins broadly before hooking his fingers below the elastic waistband of Elio’s boxers.

…..

When Oliver wakes, the late morning sun is streaming in through the windows. He curses himself for succumbing to sleep. He had wanted to spend every possible moment with Elio.

Sleep had simply been too inviting earlier when he has lain wrapped in Elio’s arms. 

He smiles remembering the morning’s loving, languid sex. He had missed Elio so and being with him again sparks joy in the pit of his stomach.

The thought of Elio entices him out of bed. He stretches, his back sore from sleeping in the dip between the two mattresses.

He takes a moment to shower. He didn’t have a chance to yesterday, and the travel grim is beginning to get to him. He smiles at the whining hum the shower makes as it tries to provide a modicum of water pressure. He has missed this house so much. They had been here last winter, but the house in the winter was different. Plus at that point, he still felt so unsure of his relationship with Elio. That fear has not disappeared, the pain he caused in the past still haunts him, but it has ebbed. 

He ambles down the stairs feeling reinvigorated and clean. He finds Elio on the sofa in the sitting room reading. Oliver sits down beside him. Without looking up from the worn paperback Elio shifts to lay his head in his lap, kicking his feet up on the arm of the sofa. 

Oliver plays his fingers through his dark hair taking quiet pleasure in the simplicity of the moment. Elio presumably comes to the end of the chapter and places the book on his stomach looking up at Oliver. 

’Hi.’

’Hi,’ he responds bending a bit to bring his face down to Elio’s.

Elio lifts his head slightly bringing their noses together. They sit like this for a moment, breathing each other in.

This is all brought to an abrupt end by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Oliver leaps back so quickly he jostles Elio out of his lap. The younger man sits up glaring at him. 

Samuel leans against the door frame, ’Hi, boys,’ he says smiling, ’Sorry to interrupt but Oliver I had some things I wanted to show you in the library before Annella and I leave.’

Oliver shoots Elio an apologetic look before standing to follow his father to the library.

The professor shows him photographs of various pieces he has found or studied in the time since Oliver had last spent the summer at the house. They fall into an easy rhythm, Oliver begins helping him sort through his papers while the trade stories. They start with stories about their work but eventually evolve into personal anecdotes. 

Finally, Samuel says, ‘We’ve been trying to get Elio to make a decision about where he’s living this fall.’ 

Oliver freezes for a moment, he hopes it was not long enough for the professor to notice. He resumes his filing, ‘Oh?’

‘Yes, he has no desire to return to the dorms, but he seems unsure of his other options.’ 

‘Well,’ Oliver begins not entirely sure what to say to the unasked question hanging in the air, ‘he’s young and in college. He has a whole life ahead of him to settle down. It’s important that he doesn’t feel any obligation,’ he picks his words carefully, ‘in his living situation. I worry that the other… options might create an unnecessary burden.’ 

‘Ah, but how do you feel about this other potential living situation?’ 

Oliver pauses, ‘Well, that is how I feel about it.’

‘No,’ Samuel responds having given up all pretense of sorting, ‘That’s what you think about it, but I asked how you feel. How do you feel about you and Elio living together?’

Oliver feels a thrill run through him at the mere suggestion. It’s ridiculous. He and Elio have practically been living together for almost a year. But the thought of it no longer being Elio’s stuff in his apartment but their things in their apartment, sharing their lives, gives him a warm glowing feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

But, no, ’It doesn’t matter, Elio needs to do what’s right for him.’ 

’Oliver,’ Samuel says in a tone so firm that he has little choice but to meet his eyes finally. 

’Come here,’ he gestures toward the couch on the other side of the small room, ’please, sit.’ 

Oliver does as he is asked with a feeling of trepidation. 

’Do you really believe that your feelings don’t matter in this?’

’I mean, they matter,’ he says not wholly convinced, but he thinks this is what Samuel is looking for, ’but they should not have any influence over Elio’s decision.’

’Why not?’ 

Oliver barely understands the question, ’Because he shouldn’t feel obligated to me. I don’t want him to make any decisions in his life based on what I want. He does not deserve to burdened by me.’ 

’Is that how you see yourself in relation to Elio?’ Samuel asks bemusedly. ’Because I can tell you that that is decidedly not how I see your impact on him. I see my son light with joy in your presence. I see him happy and secure and comfortable. He seems unencumbered by some of the weight he carries with him. You are good for him, Oliver, and you need to be good to yourself. You do yourself and him a disservice believing that it is your role to care for him and his role to be cared for. You are partners in this, and you need to start behaving as such. Trust him. I know my son; he loves you more than you can understand, let him care for you the way you do for him.’

Oliver gives a shaky nod. Samuel claps him on the shoulder and embraces him when he stands. 

’I need to put some things away before I go,’ he says gesturing at the room. 

Dismissed, Oliver makes his way out back where he finds Elio stretched out on a chair by the pool. He bends down and brings their lips together briefly. Elio smiles, looking up at him through his sunglasses. Oliver drops to the ground next to the chair, leaning into Elio and placing his head on his lap. 

Elio brushes his hair out of his faces so tenderly. Oliver has been on the brink of tears since Samuel’s speech in the library, and he fears this might push him over the edge.

’Did he show you anything interesting?’ 

Oliver chuckles lightly. He looks up at Elio, his dark hair and sunglasses framing his pale face, all surrounded by a brilliant nimbus created by the late morning sun. 

’Will you move in with me?’ he asks. 

’Is that what you want?’

’Yes,’ he says, ’very much.’

Elio beams down at him and leans in for a kiss. Oliver reaches up and cradles the back of his head, so when they break apart, their faces remain close. 

He looks at Elio directly, ’I love you, do you know that?’

Elio nods and kisses him again.

…..

Elio’s parents leave shortly after lunch. Anchise and Mafalda have conveniently chosen to take a few days off as well. The later leaving the boys with enough food that they won’t have to cook for themselves if they so choose. 

He and Oliver spend a quiet afternoon by the pool. Elio thrills at getting to touch and kiss him openly here. He loves their life in New York, but Italy is theirs in a way nowhere else is. 

When Oliver pushes him against the side of the pool and kisses him deeply, he remembers that afternoon when he had refused to tell him what he was thinking and how much he had wished Oliver had done this then. 

They eat a light dinner mostly consisting of fruit and cheese and bread. Elio drinks just enough wine that the edges of the warm night turn a bit fuzzy. 

After sunset, they make their way out to the spot Oliver had spent so many nights that first summer. Oliver leans up against the stone opening his arms for Elio. He lies back against his chest, Oliver’s arms looping around his waist. 

This night is vastly different from the first night Oliver had shown this place to him. There was none of the panicked desperation of two people hurtling toward an ending they were entirely unprepared for. 

Tonight they barely speak. Elio is content feeling the rise and fall of Oliver’s chest beneath his cheek. He silently plays with Oliver’s large hands, trying to memorize every dip and curve. 

When they do speak, it is Elio whispering the names of the stars and constellations and Olver responding with stories of their namesakes. Stories Elio know well enough but takes pleasure in hearing from Oliver’s lips. 

It is well after midnight when they return to the house. They both creep inside on instinct only to remember it is unnecessary. 

As they make their way through this kitchen, stopping briefly to grab apricots out of the dish, they begin to make unnecessary noise. 

Elio slams the refrigerator door after getting a glass of water. 

While crossing through the sitting room, Oliver wraps his arms around Elio’s waist and lifts him from behind. Elio lets out a riotous laugh. 

They stomp up the stairs, and Oliver throws open the bedroom door, not pausing to ensure it doesn’t creak or bang against the wall. 

Elio shoves Oliver roughly onto the bed. They undress each other in a fervor, all the while the bedroom door remains open wide. They don’t have to worry about who will see or hear and what they will think. They don’t have to hide. 

This electrifying freedom burns through Elio. Every kiss and touch sparking against his skin. He moans and begs at a volume he usually refrains from even in the apartment given its paper-thin walls. 

This room holds so much history for them. Even the most beautiful memories are tinged with fear and secrecy. Elio remembers that first morning waking in Oliver’s arms overcome with sheer panic. Thinking the night before had been a terrible mistake, wishing he could go back and change everything. Even when that panic receded he still spent nights worrying about Oliver’s departure. And then there were the tears he’d shed into these pillows when he had left and then again at Christmas. 

He wraps his hands in Oliver’s hair studying his face. A sweaty lock of hair falls over his eyes. Elio twists it in his fingers. Oliver kisses him soundly before moving his attention down his body.

Elio lets out a wild sob when Oliver begins stroking him. He is determined to fill the room with sounds of joy and love, to banish all the ghosts of the past with the happiness of the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm editing chapter three and working on chapter four currently.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver have a quiet day at the house and Marzia comes over for dinner.

The next morning Oliver tries valiantly to make soft-boiled eggs. It turns out to be a complete disaster. When Elio finally makes his way out to the table, Oliver greets him with fruit and toast and apricot juice. 

He tells Elio the story of the eggs, and he graciously forgives him. 

They sit across from each other at the table. Elio kicks his feet up into Oliver’s lap, and he begins to rub them absent-mindedly. 

They spend a lazy morning like this, reading and lounging around the house. All the while almost unconsciously touching, whether it’s Elio leaning casually against him while they wash dishes or the arm he throws over Elio’s shoulder while they read on the sofa. 

…..

It is past midday, and the sun is beating brightly down on the yard. Oliver is sitting at the edge of the pool reading, his feet dangling in the water. Elio floats lazily in the water head tilted up, staring at the intricate tangle of branches against the sky. 

He looks over at Oliver. He is bent over his book having forgone the look of a relaxed poolside lounger and moved toward dedicated scholar mode. It’s endearing, the way his brow wrinkles and he holds his tongue between pursed lips in concentration. 

While Elio can appreciate Oliver’s scholarly dedication he, himself, is a bit bored at the moment. He regrets leaving his music in the house.

Eventually, he pushes off the wall and wades over to Oliver. The older man doesn’t look up from his book as Elio props his elbows on Oliver’s legs and looks up at him. 

For a few minutes, Elio satisfies himself with lying his head on his arms, relishing the feel of Oliver’s sun-warm legs against his skin but this does not last long. He tries to get Oliver’s attention by splashing him lightly. He is successful to a point. Oliver does look down over the tops of his sunglasses.

’Really?’

Elio kisses the inside of his knee, but Oliver simply returns to his book. 

More determined now Elio positions himself carefully between Oliver’s legs, his nose brushes against the red fabric of his trunks. God, how he’s missed them. 

He feels Oliver tense slightly and knows he has his attention. Elio leans forward and begins to mouth at him through his trunks. 

Oliver feigns nonchalance, but Elio can feel him getting hard. He continues kissing and sucking gently, almost casually. 

Oliver lets out a slight gasp. Elio glances up to see that he has finally set down the book. Feeling accomplished, he pulls back. A wet spot has developed between Oliver’s legs. 

Elio lifts himself out of the pool. Roughly he pushes Oliver back from the edge just enough to make space for himself on his lap. 

He rolls his hips against Oliver, hands on the back of his head he kisses him deeply. He increases his pace and pressure until Oliver grasps his hips fast, stopping the motion. 

’Fuck, ’ he breathes, ’you better stop unless you want me coming in my shorts.’ 

’mmmm, ’ Elio hums, ’and if I do?’ He didn’t know that’s what he wanted until Oliver suggested it. Now all he wants is to stain those perfect red trunks. He wriggles out of Oliver's grip, pressing them together again. 

It is not long before Oliver comes with a breathy groan. 

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Elio moves off his lap and sits next to him on the side of the pool. 

Oliver leans back on his hands still out of breath.  
He sits forward and presses a hand to his lap. His fingers come back slick. Elio grabs his wrist and brings his fingers to his mouth. 

He sucks them lewdly before bringing Oliver’s hand down to rest on his, almost painful, erection. 

’Oh, ’ Oliver’s raises his eyebrows with a smile, ’Really, after all that and you didn’t even come?’

Elio pushes up into his hand. Oliver cups him and leans in close, ’I would love to help, ’ he whispers against Elio’s lips before tipping his head away and getting to his feet, ’But I need to clean up this mess you’ve made.’ 

He shrugs almost apologetically before smirking and walking across the lawn and into the house leaving Elio dumbfounded. 

…..

Oliver is washing his trunks out in the sink in their bathroom when Elio slinks into the room. He pretends not to notice when the boy leans against the door frame. 

Eventually, he looks up, and a laugh catches in his throat. Elio’s looking just past him, out the window, dejectedly clearly after something and given the tent at the front of his swimsuit it’s fairly obvious what, but unwilling to admit it. 

Oliver sighs. He walks to Elio. Placing his hands on his hips, Oliver kisses him gently before sinking to his knees. He pulls Elio’s shorts off and takes him in his mouth so quickly, hoping to catch him by surprise.

It seems he was successful given Elio’s throaty gasp. 

*

Oliver rolls back onto his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks up at Elio whose head is tilted toward the ceiling, chest heaving. 

’Are you done pouting?’ he asks, maintaining his position on the floor. 

’I wasn’t…’ he trails off as Oliver scrapes his teeth along his hip bone.

’Oh, did I misunderstand? That wasn’t your way of asking me to get you off? My mistake.'

‘I just came up to see what you were doing.’ 

‘That excuse would sound much more convincing coming from someone who had lasted more than two minutes.’ 

Elio flushes, frowning down at him. Oliver presses a kiss to his stomach, ‘Now that you’ve got that out of your system will you let me read?’

 

…..

That night they decide to have Marzia over for dinner. It was Oliver’s idea. Elio agreed but is a bit circumspect. He feels as if things between the two of them were good again and bringing Oliver into the picture might upset the balance.

He loathes to admit it, but part of his concern is related to having to spend a casual evening as the intermediary between the only two people he has ever slept with. Watching Oliver reintroduce himself to Marzia when she arrives he feels known in a way that makes his stomach twist. 

He feels a sting of regret as he watches them exchange pleasantries for the way he used her against Oliver that first summer. It wasn’t fair to either of them. As they settle in at the table amongst the copse of trees, Elio pours himself a generous glass of wine before offering it to the others. 

He sits next to Oliver, a hand resting gently on his knee as the older man tells stories of New York. Always careful to skirt any explicit mention of their relationship. Elio is taken in by the way his blue eyes dance in the soft light around the table. He finishes his glass of wine before offering to get the food. 

He is grateful for the food Mafalda had left them before she had taken a few days off. It had meant that all Elio and Oliver had to do was warm and serve. 

As they eat Elio refills the wine at a steady pace, though his glass seems to empty faster than the others. 

His hand has traveled farther up Oliver’s leg over the course of the meal. By the time they finish their third bottle of wine, it rests playfully against his inner thigh. He stares up at Oliver in wonder. Everything about him is perfect. He looks like he had been carved out of marble. His jawline and his lovely straight nose. The way his lips part as he speaks, all of it perfect. He reaches a hand up to touch. 

Oliver looks at him quizzically, ’What are you doing?’ he asks, his lips moving beneath his fingers.

’You’re pretty, like a statue,’ he slurs reaching for the bottle of wine only to find it empty. 

’And you’re drunk,’ Oliver responds taking the bottle from him. 

Elio laughs and leans into him, resting most of his body weight on him. Oliver takes him by the shoulders and pushes him gently back into his own chair before getting up. 

He starts clearing the plates. Marzia moves to help, but Oliver tells her it’s fine. 

He places a hand on Elio’s shoulder, ’try to stay upright while I’m gone.’ 

Elio rolls his head towards Oliver’s hand and places an open mouth kiss between his thumb and forefinger. Oliver removes his hand giving him a meaningful look before heading toward the house. 

He rests his head in his hands and looks at Marzia for the first time all evening. She’s beautiful, not like Oliver but still beautiful. She blushes, and he fears he may have said this aloud but thinks it’s just her response to his gaze. 

’I like him,’ she says in her clipped English.

’Mmmmm me too,’ he hums, ’a lot. Of course, everyone likes Oliver. How could you not? He’s just so… Oliver.’ He stares off at a spot slightly above Marzia’s shoulder thinking about him. 

’He’s just; he’s perfect. I mean you’ve seen him. Everything is just so,’ he gestures wildly at Oliver’s empty seat, ’I don’t understand it at all.’ 

Marzia furrows her brow inquisitively. 

’Why he’s with me. I mean, how can someone like him with his, with his everything want to fuck me. But he does,’ he says almost wistfully, ’and he’s very good. Oliver is good at everything, but he’s particularly good at that. Fucking me, I mean.’ 

He feels someone standing behind his chair. 

’Ol-i-ver,’ he draws out his name, throwing his head back to look up at him, ’We were just talking about you.’

’Mmm, I heard,’ Oliver smiles tightly, and Elio wonders why he’s so tense. It’s a beautiful night, and everything is fuzzy and warm, and everyone he loves is here.

’I should probably get him to bed,’ he addresses Marzia, a flush creeping up his neck, ’It was wonderful getting to know you, I’m sorry about all this.’ 

’Please, it’s okay. I had a good time,’ she smiles not quite making eye contact with either of them as she gets up to leave.

Elio stands abruptly; he hears a crash and thinks he may have knocked over his chair, but it doesn’t matter. He starts toward Marzia for a hug, but Oliver slides an arm around his shoulder, and he quickly forgets what he was doing. He folds himself against Oliver and stares up at him dreamily. 

’Let’s get you to bed,’ he says pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

…..

Oliver hadn’t had to carry Elio up the stairs exactly, but he had kept a firm grip on his hip, and an arm slung around his shoulders. At the landing, he leaned so heavily on him that they both almost tipped down the stairs. 

He is grateful they have finally made it to the bedroom. Elio is still clinging to him, both arms around his neck. He moves them in the direction of the bed wondering if he will bother trying to undress them or just sleep fully clothed when Elio stops dead. 

‘Where’re you going?’ he slurs.

‘To bed.’

‘Th’ sounds nice, but it’s all the way over there,’ he gestures erratically in the general direction of the bed but ends up whacking his hand on the bookcase. He looks at his hand in confusion then back to Oliver. 

’I think you’ll make it.’ Oliver tries to maneuver them to the bed, but Elio hangs around his neck, mostly dead weight, his face buried in Oliver’s shirt. 

’Will you go if I carry you?’ Elio nods into his chest. Oliver puts a hand behind each of his knees and lifts. Elio wraps his legs around him and then begins placing wet, open-mouthed kisses up his neck. 

Oliver cradles his small body. He loves holding him like this, wrapping his arms protectively around something so precious.

He tries to set Elio on the bed, but the younger man somehow manages to pull him down on top of him. He feels the kisses on his neck grow desperate and hurried. As he is about to extricate himself from the whole situation, Elio rolls them, so Oliver’s back is pressed against the mattress, and Elio’s lithe frame hovers above him. 

Elio leans in and kisses him clumsily. At times he almost misses Oliver's lips entirely and makes due with dragging his lips over Oliver’s chin. What he lacks in grace he seems to try to make up for with enthusiasm. 

Oliver closes his eyes and allows himself to enjoy the feeling for a moment. His boyfriend, who had just bitten his lower lip rather harder than necessary, may be too drunk to walk but he was there, real and present as he hadn’t been the past few weeks. 

Oliver tangles his hands in Elio’s hair, pushing up into the kiss for a brief second before pulling Elio’s face from his. 

’We need to go to bed.’

’We’re in bed.’

’We need to go to sleep.’

’Not yet,’ Elio pouts, ’there are a few things we need to do first,’ he says sliding his hands up under Oliver’s shirt. 

When Elio’s hands lower to his fly, Oliver reaches out to grasp his wrists. 

’Oh no, none of that. You are in no state for that tonight,’ he says moving Elio’s hands to the side. 

The younger man glares at him, ’Why not?’ he demands.

’You’re too drunk; we’re just not going there,’ he says firmly, hoping to end the conversation. They had had sex drunk before, but they were both drunk at the time, and neither was anywhere near where Elio was tonight. 

’But, I want you, please,’ Elio leans in close and whispers in his ear, ’you don't even have to do anything, just let me suck you off.’ 

At this Oliver takes him by the waist and pushes him unceremoniously onto the bed next to him before getting to his feet. Elio glares at him, a hint of betrayal in his eyes. 

’Fine,’ he huffs, grabbing the pillow roughly and turning his back on Oliver. 

Oliver brushes his teeth, and when he gets back from the bathroom, he finds Elio sound asleep. 

*

A few hours later he is jostled awake by Elio quickly leaving the bed. Oliver sits up, his head still a bit foggy, as he hears Elio vomit into the toilet. He gets up and follows him to the bathroom.

Elio looks utterly pathetic hunched over the rim of the toilet. Oliver kneels next to him, placing a hand soothingly on his chest while using the other to brush his hair from his eyes. 

Elio continues to retch, his thin chest shuddering. Finally, he sits back on his heels. Oliver repositions to support him. Elio leans back onto his chest gratefully, letting out a frustrated groan. 

’You’re okay; you’re okay.’ he murmurs continuing to stroke his hair. 

’M so sorry,’ he says under his breath.

’It’s okay.’

They sit there for a moment before Oliver asks, ’Do you think you can sit here for a minute while a get a few things?’ 

Elio grumbles an affirmative against he chest. Oliver carefully positions him against the tub. 

’I will be right back,’ he promises before walking to the bedroom. He grabs a bottle of painkillers from the desk and an empty water glass from the bedside table. While filling the glass, he also decides to soak a cloth in cool water. He hands the glass and two pills to Elio before beginning to wipe his face with the damp cloth. 

When he finishes, he helps Elio to his feet, and they walk slowly to the bed. He sits Elio on the edge of the bed and helps him out of his shirt and jeans both of which have traces of vomit down the front. 

He rakes Elio’s hair from his forehead and presses a kiss to his sweaty brow.

’Lie down; I’m going to take care of these,’ he gestures with the hand in which he grasps Elio’s dirty clothes.

He runs the jeans and shirt under the faucet. He’s too exhausted to clean them properly but knows if he leaves them till morning it will be worse. While in the bathroom he wipes down and flushes the toilet and gathers the glass and pill bottle off the floor. 

Elio is resting on his side in bed. His eyes are closed, but he is still awake. Oliver crawls in beside him and gathers him to his chest. 

’I am sorry, really,’ Elio mumbles, ’Not just for that but for everything.’ 

’It’s okay,’ he says stroking his hair, ’Sleep, and we can talk about it in the morning.’

Oliver remains awake until Elio’s breathing slows and he grows sleep heavy against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. All kudos and comments are appreciated. I am finishing up chapter 4 now and should have it up in the next week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver deal with the aftermath of Elio's drunken evening.

urprised if she ever spoke to him again.

And Oliver, he buried his face in the pillow. He is grateful for once that he had woken up alone, it allows him to collect himself. What the fuck was he supposed to say, ‘Sorry I got drunk, told my ex you were good in bed, stuck my hands down your pants, and then threw up on everything.’ 

He knows the longer he waits, the worse it will be so he pulls on the first clothes he found and heads downstairs.

Oliver is sitting at the table flipping casually through the newspaper. He looks up as Elio walks out the back door. 

‘How do you feel?’ His tone is more curt than usual. 

The honest answer is, ‘like shit,’ but Elio isn’t sure how he would take that, so instead, he shrugs, ‘Fine.’ 

‘No, you don’t,’ Oliver stands, ‘Come on.’ He walks past Elio and into the house. 

In the kitchen, he fills a glass from the tap. He produces a bottle of pills that it appears he was keeping in his pocket for just such an occasion. 

‘Here,’ he says handing Elio the glass and dropping the pills into his hand. 

‘Drink all of it,’ he directs when Elio goes to set the glass down after a sip. 

Dutifully Elio finishes the glass, Oliver takes it from him and refills it. 

Elio sips this and looks at Oliver over the rim.

He is leaning back against the counter, hands gripping the edge. Every line of his body is devastating in its casual ease. 

Elio, on the other hand, feel taught as a bowstring. His head and muscles ache, and his throat is raw. He waits for Oliver to say something.

He finally does, ’What were you doing last night?’

Elio glances at his feet.

’I mean, we were having a nice time. Why did you feel the need to finish almost two bottles of wine yourself?’

’I was nervous, ’ he mutters, not making eye contact.

’About what? Marzia and me meeting? What exactly did you think was going to happen? ’ he is not shouting, but his voice is tinged with frustration which is almost worse. ’Did you think we were going to embarrass you somehow? And decided to beat us to it? And if it was something between us why did you bring Marzia into this. She didn’t deserve that, Elio.’

’Don’t you think I know that, ’ tears began to form in his eyes, ’I’ve been awful to her and you. That's why I was nervous. I used her that first summer to get a rise out of you. I somehow thought it was okay to play out all of our unresolved issues with her instead of talking to you about it. I was angry and embarrassed, and I wanted to forget about all of it.’

’But why didn’t you talk to me this time? Are you that afraid of me, Elio? That you couldn’t just tell me?’

’Because I felt guilty for what I had done to you too.’

’What?’ 

’I spent that whole summer trying to make you angry, to make you jealous. I wanted you to be as uncomfortable as I was. It wasn’t fair.’ 

Oliver sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. ’You only did that in response to my passive aggressive shit.’

’Passive?’ Elio smiles.

Oliver laughs and reaches out to gather him in his arms. 

’This is ridiculous,’ he says as he buries his nose in his hair and kisses the crown of his head. 

Pulling back he looks down at Elio, ’Please just talk to me next time. I’ll try to be better at it too.’

Elio nods and lays his head on Oliver’s chest. He agrees on this resolution, but there is a nagging thought at the back of his mind wondering how they had come to decide to communicate better without really talking about much of anything. As Oliver suggests they go into B. and he follows him out behind the house to the bikes, Elio can’t stop thinking about how Oliver had asked if he was afraid of him. 

*

They spend much of the day in the bookshop. Browsing and sharing their most exciting finds with each other. 

Elio finds a book of poetry in translation that he brings over to Oliver who is currently wading through the knee-high stacks at the back of the shop. He leans against a shelf next to Oliver and reads him a poem in the original Italian before handing the book over to Oliver to peruse the English translation. 

Oliver’s Italian has improved significantly from the first summer, but he still seems to enjoy Elio reading to him.

They enjoy a relaxed mid-afternoon meal before grabbing their bikes and heading towards the berm. Neither of them suggests it as their destination, but somehow they both know. 

When they arrive, they dispose of the bikes and find a space to lay together in the grass. 

Unlike the first time they were here, they lay almost on top of one another. Their legs are overlapping, Elio’s head resting on Oliver’s shoulder, Oliver’s arm wrapped around him, playing with his hair. 

Elio rolls on his side to face Oliver and brings their lips together. He tries to enjoy the moment. Sitting in the spot where he first kissed him without the anxiety of that time. 

But he feels a tension between them still. He rolls onto his back and sighs staring up at the sky. Now Oliver turns to face him.

‘Oliver,’ Elio starts, ‘why do you think I’m afraid of you. 

Oliver rises onto one arm and looks at him quizzically, ‘What?’ 

‘This morning you asked if I was too afraid of you to talk to you about Marzia,’ he turns his head to face Oliver.

Oliver looks a bit shocked, though Elio’s not sure why given he was the one who said it. 

‘I, I, didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Well, how did you mean it? Because it sounded like you were suggesting that our relationship is built on my being too afraid to tell you how I feel and that’s bullshit. That’s not even a relationship.’ Elio does not want to be getting angry, not here, not while he’s still marveling at getting to see Oliver every day but he can’t help himself.

‘No,' Oliver says emphatically, ‘no. I just worry sometimes that you feel… pressured by me. And we’ve moved so fast. I mean, you were seventeen, Elio. You’d never had sex with a man before. Hell, I don’t think you’ve slept with any men besides me. I worry that you try to please me because you don’t know what your other options are.’

‘Really, Oliver,’ he scoffs, pushing to his feet, ‘you think I am that naive? That I don’t know, I could sleep with half of the guys in my classes. You think I’m with you because it’s convenient, because it’s easy.’ 

He wants to hit Oliver, to yell and scream until he understands. 

‘This has been hard. That first summer was hell; everything hurt, all of the time, but it was nothing compared to that winter. And still, there’s still a throbbing ache of worry that it’ll happen again. I wouldn’t do this for an easy fuck, and I’m not the lovestruck teenager you imagine I am. I know you, Oliver. I’ve hurt you, and I’ve been hurt by you, and I still choose you. I actively choose you every moment and the fact that you still don’t realize that after everything…,’ Elio finally feels the hot tears, that have been building behind his eyes, streaming down his face.

Oliver moves towards him, but before he can touch him Elio raises his hands defensively, ‘No, I’m done. I’m going back to the house.’ He grabs his bike, and then he’s gone.

*****

Oliver follows him back to the house. He doesn’t know how this happened. He wishes he could say Elio misunderstood, that he doesn’t think of him as a naive lovestruck teenager but he can’t. He remembers what Samuel told about treating Elio as an equal partner and his hearts sinks when he realizes he’s never really done that. 

When they arrive back at the house, Elio throws down his bike and storms through the back door without a backward glance. Oliver sets down his own bike and then follows Elio into the house.

He catches him at the top of the stairs. He grabs his wrist, and Elio turns to face him. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, but he’s no longer crying. Oliver pauses and takes him in, trying to come up with the right words. Apparently, he waits too long because Elio pulls away from him and continues into the bedroom. 

Oliver follows, ‘Elio, wait, please.’

Elio stops just inside the door and looks at him. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he cups Elio’s face in his hands, ‘I’m so sorry.’ 

Elio shakes his head slightly and begins to cry. 

‘No, no, c’mere,’ Oliver pulls Elio towards the bed where he settles them both on the edge. 

He tucks Elio against his chest and runs soothing hands down his back as he begins to sob.

‘I’m sorry. I need you to know that it’s not about you. You’re everything to me, and I have trouble believing that you could possibly feel that way about me.’

Eliot looks up at him, face crumpled by tears, ‘I adore you Oliver, and I hate that there’s nothing I can do to make you believe me.’

‘I know, I know. I just can’t believe that this is real and this is working. So I make up reasons that it won’t. And it’s not fair to you.’ 

‘It’s not fair to you either,’ Elio mumbles into his neck before pressing a wet kiss to his skin. Oliver holds Elio to him as he repositions, so they are both lying side-by-side on the bed. 

They don’t say anything for a while, just listening to each other’s breath. Oliver wonders if he should say more when he feels Elio shift.

Elio turns towards him and kisses him deeply. Then he begins to he position himself above Oliver, one leg on either side of his hips. He continues kissing across his jaw then gently brushes his lips over Oliver’s cheekbones and forehead and eventually his eyelids before leaning close and whispering, ‘I love you.’ 

He peppers more kisses down his neck before saying, ‘I choose you.’ 

He brings their lips together once more and then breaking away asks, ‘Do you believe me?’ 

Oliver nods, his voice thick, ‘Yes.’ 

‘Good,’ Elio says as he begins kissing his collarbone. 

As Elio begins unbuttoning his shirt, Oliver revels in his attention. He lies back with his eyes closed enjoying the feeling of Elio’s warm hands and lips on his body. He doesn’t often allow himself to give up control, but he could spend the rest of the night just lying back and letting Elio love him. 

When Elio begins unbuttoning his shorts Oliver reaches out to cup his cheek and bring his face level with his own. He opens his eyes slightly to take in the tangle of Elio’s hair and the flush of his cheeks, he’s never seen anyone so beautiful.

Oliver kisses him lightly and then asks in a low undertone, ‘Will you fuck me?’ 

Elio sits back in surprise, ‘You want me to?’

‘God, yes. Please, I want you inside me.’ A thrill runs through his body at the thought.

‘Yeah, of course,’ Elio nods, a new sharp look of desire in his eyes. 

 

*****

Elio grins as he lays on his back looking up at the ceiling. It had been a bit awkward and fumbling but wonderful. Oliver is always so attentive and caring with him but usually never lets Elio care for him but this was different. Elio loves the moans and gums of pleasure he was able to elicit from Oliver. 

He turns on his side to face Oliver who is lying on his back, his arm resting over his eyes. He kisses his cheek before rising and going to the bathroom to get a towel. 

When he returns to the bed, he kneels over Oliver and wipes down his stomach and between his legs. Oliver uncovers his eyes and looks up at Elio. As he sits up he lets out a short hiss of breath.

Moving back Elio asks, ‘Are you okay?’

Oliver chuckles and pulls him in for a kiss. 

‘Yeah, I’m more than okay,’ he says, his forehead pressed to Elio’s. 

Elio leans back and pulls Oliver down horizontal beside him. Oliver folds against his side, his face pressed into Elio’s chest, smiling softly. 

‘I love this,’ he murmurs. 

‘Me too,’ Elio says pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for taking so long to get this done. Work has been busy and I'm getting ready to move and I just lost track of this. Thank you for reading. I am so glad I finished it. I have a very short separate series that I'm working on with these two. Hopefully, I'll have it up in the next month or so.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was originally going to post the whole thing in one piece but it got a bit out of my control so I have broken it into chapters. I apologize for this one being so sort but I promise the next chapter is much longer. I should be posting chapter two in the next couple of days, I just need to finish editing it. Chapters three and four are in the works.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.


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